


Secrets and Desires

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Omega Verse, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock share a night of passion, but then Sherlock pushes John away. It turns out he has a secret that could break them forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets and Desires

 

 

 

It had started the way John had imagined it would while tossing off in his bedroom late at night. They’d come home high on adrenaline from a case, stumble through the door laughing and shoving at each other, shoved a _bit_ too hard, and then ended up apologizing as they picked up something broken… then the look… then the hunger… then the frantic snog on the couch. What had happened after that was a surprise, to say the least, and John had nearly convinced himself he _was_ dreaming. Sherlock had tugged down his trousers and sucked him into oblivion while fingering his arse. John had come over and again, shouting himself hoarse as Sherlock took things a step further and forced _one more_ orgasm from him than John thought he had in him. He’d laid there limp and giddy with pleasure, but when he’d tried to reciprocate Sherlock had gently pushed him down.

“That was for you, John,” Sherlock had whispered, kissing him gently, “To bed with you- your _own_ bed. Goodnight, John.”

“You can’t throw me a cliché romantic line one moment and then tell me to go to my bed alone the next,” John had slurred, pushing himself upright as Sherlock headed for his room.

He’d gotten no response and the next day Sherlock had told him firmly to ‘leave it’ every time he’d tried to bring it up. So he’d started asking him out. Daily. He’d tried to initiate their intimacy again after a case and been soundly pushed away, though with a rather sad smile from Sherlock. It made no _sense_. Sherlock was the sort to deny himself only when he thought it was beneficial to ‘The Work’. He was otherwise a hedonistic bohemian with the taste of the English gentry- as full of contradictions as he was his own high opinion of himself. So John stubbornly decided _not_ to give up until he had his Alpha on top of him where he belonged.

The result was surprising.

Sherlock asked _him_ out.

“Sorry what?” John blinked.

Sherlock sighed, “I _said_ , meet me at Angelo’s at eight for a date.”

“I’m working tonight,” John frowned, “I’ll have to head straight there…”

“I see you every day, John: both when you are attractive and when you are hung over. Your work clothes will be fine provided you haven’t been vomited on.”

“Okay… good point… still, we could push it back to-”

“Or I could change my mind.”

“Eight it is, and aren’t I just a _little_ bit pathetic for caving in to you immediately,” John sighed.

“Pathetic? No. Pathetic would be asking a sociopath out on a date for eight weeks straight.”

“You will _never_ let me live that down will you?”

“No.”

“You know what I won’t let you live down?”

“My sappy, movie cliché response after our pathetic excuse for copulation eight weeks ago?”

“Hey, I came six times! That was _not_ pathetic.”

Sherlock winced. Actually _winced_ , and then fled the room with a grumbled excuse.

XXX

Angelo was no moron. He owned a restaurant that prided itself on two things: his cooking and his status as an unbonded Omega. Angelo brought in Alphas by smelling like a potential mate, Betas by smelling like a matchmaker’s dream, and Omegas and children by smelling like ‘mother’ and ‘home’ and ‘comfort’. People who came to Angelos came with heat in their eyes and empty stomachs and left with happy smiles and their belts loosened.

Except John.

John was annoyed. First Sherlock had left him waiting at the restaurant until 9- which meant he _could_ have gone home and freshened up- and then he showed up smelling odd and behaving like a complete arse. Angelo spent the first hour of John’s incarceration in his restaurant reassuring him that Sherlock was just _bound_ to show up at any second, and the second hour trying to slip Sherlock wine so he’d loosen up while throwing John apologetic looks. John for his part did his best to refuse to be pushed away.

He tried to hold Sherlock’s hand when the berk refused to eat. 

Sherlock pulled his hand away and started fiddling with his phone while alternating between talking to John and ignoring him.

He slipped out of one shoe and rubbed at Sherlock’s ankle.

At first he’d shivered and blushed, but then he’d pulled his feet back and stuffed them under his seat despite his long legs making it undoubtedly painful.

So John had tried to woo him with words, asking about past cases from before they’d met and buttering him up.

Sherlock had taken the bait for a full twenty minutes until he’d caught on, given John an angry look, and decided to call Lestrade out of the blue and _chit chat_. Lestrade was so baffled he’d texted John _while_ talking to Sherlock to ask if Sherlock was high.

_Good question_.

“Sherlock, are you using?” John asked, pocketing his own mobile.

“What? No!” Sherlock stammered in surprise, “Why would you even… Damn it, Lestrade! I’m not high!”

Sherlock hung up the phone and glared at John sullenly, arms folded like a surly toddler. John sighed and rubbed at his forehead before facing him solidly and deciding to get it over with.

“You’re trying to push me away. I get it. I respond better to direct statements than hints, and you _know_ that. So spit it out. What is this? Was it a one-off? Because that’s fine, but I need you to _tell me_ so I can put you behind me because I still bloody _want_ you right now.”

“You _shouldn’t!_ ” Sherlock snarled, “I’ve spent the last eight weeks rejecting you!”

“Without giving me a reason and while looking like you didn’t really want to,” John shrugged, “Did I misunderstand you?”

“I spent the entire night on my _worst_ behavior with no cologne on!”

“A resounding ‘yes you did’ to the first and ‘who cares’ to the second.”

“Your _instincts_ should care!” Sherlock snapped, then stood up and came round the table.

John stood and found himself nose to… well, neck… with Sherlock. That was apparently where he wanted him because he pushed John’s face against his neck. Someone cleared their throat and a glass was dropped. They probably looked like they were about to bond! John ignored it and placed his hands at Sherlock’s hips and… stopped cold in shock. Sherlcok didn’t just smell _off_ , he smelled like… nothing.

“Why…” John backed up, licking his lips and frowning in confusion, “Why do you smell like a _Beta_?”

Sherlock sank into his seat with a sigh and motioned for John to sit as well. He did and then watched as Sherlock motioned him silent before waving to Angelo to bring over that wine. Angelo poured them both a glass and then watched discreetly from his kitchen. Once the other diners had gone back to their meals Sherlock began to speak.

“It is _imperative_ that no one finds out, John. No matter how much you hate me for this you must know that.”

“Finds out what, Sherlock?” John asked in confusion.

“That I’m a Beta.”

“But you’re not. You’re an Alpha. I’ve lived with you for three years now. You’re an Alpha. You smell like one, you act like one, you blood stomp around like one, and you trigger all the Omega responses in me that an Alpha would.”

“That was all to get into _the Yard_ , John!” Sherlock hissed, “Do you think they’d take a Beta seriously? That’s an All-Alpha Club! They barely respect me even with the shampoo, body wash, and cologne that stinks of Alpha!”

“So… your scent… the one I associate with my best friend and flatmate… the one that permeates our flat and declares _your_ territory… the one I’ve _tossed off to_ … it’s artificial?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied miserably, “But you weren’t supposed to ever know either. John, I’m _sorry.”_

“You’re sorry,” John repeated, his tone disbelieving.

“I just wanted your respect!” Sherlock hissed, “I’ll understand if you want to leave…”

“Sherlock, I’m pissed off you lied, but heaven knows you do that _all the damn time_ so I’ll get over that eventually. So no, I’m not moving out. I might tell you to make your own damn tea for a while, though.”

“Yes,” Sherlock sighed, “But this changes everything. _John_. You weren’t supposed to find me attractive. You _can’t_. No one ever was. That’s why I’m such a consummated bastard.”

“Yeah, you’ll never convince me _that’s_ fake,” John snorted sitting back and folding his arms over his chest, “And this changes _nothing_.”

“I can’t give you a family,” Sherlock replied miserably.

“Don’t want one,” John shrugged, “I’m past my prime for bearing children, Sherlock. My eggs were donated years ago.”

“I can’t knot you.”

“I’ve got toys and there are other ways around that.”

“I can’t… fill you… and I’ll not… _ahem_ … enjoy…”

“I’ll do Keigel’s until I’m tight enough.”

“I… that’s a bit… really?” Sherlock swallowed hard.

“I’ve been with Beta’s, Sherlock,” John snorted, “It’s not rocket science. Hell, it’s not even _secondary school_ science. It’s sex. Plain, everyday, sex.”

“Your instincts will drive you away from me,” Sherlock replied softly, “I’ll not commit myself to you only to be abandoned when you find an Alpha.”

“I’m not looking for one and any who come sniffing around can eat my Browning.”

“I’ll try to match you up with one. It’s _my_ instinct!” Sherlock moaned, sitting back and rubbing at his face.

“You haven’t yet.”

Sherlock peered from between his fingers and then dropped them into his lap, giving John a disgusted look.

“John… why do you think you _always_ go on the cases involving Lestrade?”

“Lestrade?” John asked, wrinkling up his nose, “Really? Bloody hell, Sherlock, he’s all wrong for me. If you’re this shit of a matchmaker we’ll have no problem.”

“I know,” Sherlock sighed, “He’s right for my _brother_ , but the bastard refuses to be matched up so I keep throwing Lestrade at _you_ since he’s the only worthy Alpha I know.”

“Again, sounds like it’s not a problem.”

“You really think this could work?” Sherlock asked, peering at him curiously.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” John asked, then leaned forward and placed his hand palm-up on the table.

Sherlock hesitantly took his hand, smiling softly as he gave John a shy look beneath his eyelashes. John prompted him to eat and even managed to get desert into him before taking him home to show him his toy collection. They took it slowly, working their way up to sex as Sherlock was still very hesitant with his heart. It wasn’t long until they couldn’t imagine life without the other and couldn’t recall why they had taken so long to wind up in each other’s arms.


End file.
